Ghost King
by gothicorca1895
Summary: Vanellope von Schweetz is "programmed parentless" - a kid with no parents, and with a backstory that doesn't include parents. Then, in the middle of enjoying life with her surrogate family, she begins remembering events that never happened. Still, it's easy to ignore the nonsensical flashbacks, until King Candy reappears with a head full of...unusual memories. Sequel to Ghost Boy.
1. Prologue

_A/N - Um._

_So._

_Remember when I started that drabblefic to act as a sequel to Ghost Boy?_

_Well...I had this idea, and um...this happened. I think I'll just leave Mountains We Haven't Climbed open, and add to it whenever I have oneshots and stuff, 'cause that's pretty much what it was anyway. I just...hot damn I had this idea, and all the fans on Tumblr seemed really enthusiastic about it, and I couldn't pass up the chance to do a Ghost Boy sequel that had a running plot and drama and stuff, and yeah._

_So, that's that._

_Enjoy the REAL sequel to Ghost Boy, and I mean it this time._

* * *

"_We are our memories...That's all we are. That's what makes us the person we are. The sum of all our memories from the day we were born. If you took a person and replaced his set of memories with another set, he'd be a different person. He'd think, act, and feel things differently."_

- Brian Falkner, _Brainjack_

…

Prologue

…

"_Move it or lose it, people! Everybody out! Let's go, go, go!"_

_Vanellope von Schweetz had been consumed by an uncanny sense of deja vu even before Sergeant Calhoun had begun barking her orders, just as she had during the last Cy-Bug invasion of Sugar Rush, over a year ago now. The little girl was currently perched on Ralph's shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck in a death grip as he hustled them both towards the exit. She watched with fearful hazel eyes as boiling swarms of Cy-Bugs blotted out the normally cheery tones of her game. There was nothing to do but escape, so she supposed that it was a good thing that they'd reached the apex of the Rainbow Bridge and were now passing through the archway in the mountain that would deliver them to Game Central Station –_

_An incoherent yelp from behind her snatched her attention away from Sugar Rush's predicament._

_Stuck at the exit to the game, his progress halted by an electric blue force field, was a small figure clad in white from head to toe. The only splashes of color on his person were the red accents of his jumpsuit, and his luminescent yellow eyes, which were round and desperately pleading as they frantically swiveled to gaze at her. "Vanny!" he cried, pressing himself against the barrier until the palms of his chalky hands flattened. "Help me!"_

"_Turbo!" Vanellope gasped and leaned over Ralph's shoulder as far as she dared. "Turbo, glitch your way through! You can do that!"_

"_I'm trying, but I can't!" Turbo's hands had twisted into fists now, which pounded at the wall that was tangible to no one but him. Red static crackled down his body in irregular bursts. "Vanellope, please! Don't leave me behind!"_

_Unable to stand their separation anymore, she prepared to launch herself from her perch and rush to him, but Ralph's beefy fingers closed around her in an unbreakable hold._

"_Ralph, what are you doing?!" she screeched, wriggling and struggling against his grip. "I need to get to Turbo!"_

"_It's too late for him, kid," responded Ralph solemnly. "You're more important."_

"_No! No, I won't leave him!" With a furious burst of strength, Vanellope managed to pry her arms free, but not before Turbo's scream of terror pierced her ears._

_He was no longer alone on the Rainbow Bridge now – there was someone else there, some_thing _else. It towered high above the cowering racer on six spiked insectile legs, and the chitin armor plating its form glinted nearly neon in the irregular light. It possessed so many scary features, from the mouth stuffed full of razor-like teeth to the claws spread in a disturbing parody of human hands...but possibly the most distressing thing about it was its head. While most of it resembled an enormous monstrous bug, its face was that of a person, and one that all of them recognized._

_King Candy._

_The monster laughed, its chucking "ooh-hoo-hoo" giggle, as it reached down and swept Turbo into its clutches. Turbo screamed again and extended his arms towards Vanellope, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. "Vanny, don't leave me!" he wailed._

"_No! Turbo! TURBO!" she shrieked, but the exit was drawing farther and farther away from her now, until it was nothing but a distant pinprick of light..._

"_TURBO – !"_

Mercifully, that was when her eyes decided to snap open.

Vanellope clutched her tangled comforter and trembled, needing several moments to confirm that she was in her royal bedchambers, not being dragged down a tunnel while forced to watch her best friend stranded on the Rainbow Bridge. There were no Cy-Bugs, either; the sarge would never let another outbreak happen, especially not in Sugar Rush. And King Candy was finally gone for good.

Several months ago, the little president had taken a huge risk when she'd decided to give Turbo, the game-jumping good-guy-gone-bad who had ruined her life for fifteen years and possibly the most hated man in Litwak's Arcade, a chance to reform his ways. With the aid of her friend and guardian Fix-It Felix Jr., Turbo had been given a hard reset to restore his code to default, and then had much of his memory wiped. That was how she had come to discover that the most hated man in the arcade wasn't a man at all – he was just a kid, a very young teenager with a love of racing, a bit of a sensitive streak, and a glitch that irritated him to no end. Oh, and a cluster of malware embedded within his code that they hadn't detected until it was nearly too late...

She shuddered internally and forced herself to focus on happier memories, such as the month she'd spent training Turbo to control his glitch and become a real Sugar Rush racer. It had been surprising when she'd come to the realization that he was far from evil, even more so when the two of them had somehow formed a strong bond. She loved him like a best friend, like a big brother, and by now they had been through so many dire situations together that it was only natural for her to worry about him once in a while.

Perhaps that was why she was unable to shake the sensation that something was wrong...

Sighing at her own babyish behavior, Vanellope lifted herself into a sitting position and lowered her feet into the cotton candy slippers awaiting her on the floor. Her tiny feet whisked against the floor as she padded down the hall, finally stopping to creak open the door to Turbo's bedroom.

Her eyes strained to adjust to the darkness. Since the lemon-drop sun within the game never set, every window in the castle was equipped with heavy blackout curtains, which were drawn tightly shut when it was time to go to sleep. Eventually, she was able to pick out the slender forms of Turbo's trophies crowded across nearly every flat surface, and the heap of his latest _knitting _project (he insisted that it was crochet, but she doubted it) strewn over a chair. And from the doorway she had a near-perfect view of his bed, with him curled up in a ball on top of it.

A breath of relief escaped her lips. Turbo had kicked his blankets to the ground, which was normal for him since he was such a fitful sleeper, but other than that he appeared to be slumbering soundly. He was all snuggled up in white footie pajamas embroidered with red race cars, and she smiled, thinking of her snide nickname for him. His regular racing jumpsuit might have looked a bit like sleepwear, but Pajama Boy's actual pajamas were _much_ cuter.

Then he sat up abruptly, eyes widening into startled glowing orbs. "Wha? Whozzere...?!"

Vanellope groaned. She considered herself an expert in sneaking around, but Turbo happened to be about the world's lightest sleeper.

"It's just me, Pajama Boy," she called over quietly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you."

"Vanny?" He squinted, leaning back on his elbows. The wheels in his head ground together with an almost audible sound as he tried to puzzle out her presence there. "What're you doing in my room?"

"I had a bad dream," she murmured, her feet slipping across the carpet as she made her way over to his bed. Well, since he was awake...

Turbo scooted over, but made sure to roll his eyes dramatically in a way that she couldn't help but notice. She almost snorted. This wasn't the first time that she'd climbed into bed with him, far from it, and yet every time he had to put on a show of "I'm only doing this because I have to." Any teenage brother would do the same, she supposed, but she knew him better than that. He really didn't mind as much as he let on.

"Oh, don't even start," she scolded, sticking her tongue out as she flopped beside him. "Really, this is more of a burden for me than it is for you. _I'm _not the one who talks in my sleep."

"No one's forcing you to come in here," he muttered gruffly, his head dropping heavily to his pillow. Even when he was sleeping, he didn't remove his helmet, which was the only thing shielding his extremely bald head from view. "What was your nightmare about?"

"King Candy."

He stiffened visibly, and a crackle of red pixels zipped down his body, as bright as a shower of sparks in the darkened bedroom.

"But it doesn't matter now, 'Bo," she concluded, already reassured as she snuggled up against him. "We got rid of him, you and me. Well, Ralph and Felix and the sarge helped too, of course."

"Still." He rolled onto his side to meet her eyes, and his face was as round and pale as the moon, his little snub nose barely visible. As strange as his appearance could be at first glance, with his chalk-white skin and yellow eyes sunken into dark hollows and mouth full of too many dull yellow teeth, you didn't have to look hard to see how young he truly was. Now that he had been stripped of his corrupted coding, he looked like a kid, albeit one that had been conceived in an era when programming had been very limited. Honestly, Vanellope could see how he had earned the nickname "ghost boy," but she would never call him that, ever. There were still bullies out at Tapper's or in Game Central Station who teased him with that phrase, and she was always shocked at how much it profoundly upset him.

"Look, Bo, I'm fine." She placed her hand on his cheek comfortingly. "It was just a dumb dream. I'm not scared or nothin'."

"Yeah, glitter-graphics, I know you're made of tougher stuff than that." His voice was gentler now, more sympathetic. "It's just...normally _I'm_ the one having nightmares about him, not you."

She bobbed her head somberly. She and everyone else in their little surrogate family were all too familiar with Turbo's recurring nightmares, which caused him to awaken screaming far too frequently for comfort. "It happens every once in a while. Whatever, doesn't bother me. He can't get us now." Her head inched towards his shoulder. "I'm just gonna stay in here, just in case. You'll protect me, won't you, Pajama Boy?"

"You know it." He slipped his arm around her back, and she smiled contentedly, allowing her eyes to fall shut. "Night, then."

"Good night..." she echoed quietly, her dream already all but entirely forgotten.

She had been through a lot, probably more than any nine-year-old should have to endure, but she'd made it through the adversities and earned herself a family in the process. What Turbo had once been like – what he had once become – no longer mattered, because she was perfectly satisfied with who he was right now, and so was he. Even though he was constantly reminding her that they weren't really related, because they were both "programmed parentless," or kids who had been created with no families or memories of ever having families, personally she would always see him as her big brother.

And nothing would ever come between them, never ever, never again.

Would it?


	2. It's not an update

...

_It's not an update_

...

_Once upon a time, in a magical far-off land, there was an enchanted kingdom where everything was made of sugary sweets and other things that were good to eat. It was ruled by a kindly old man named King Candy von Schweetz. King Candy loved racing, so each day, he hosted races for the entire kingdom. There were fourteen special children who competed in these races, and King Candy loved each and every one of them. He loved all children. That was why the king was sad that he didn't have a child of his own._

_One day, King Candy was walking through his kingdom when he heard someone calling for help. It was a sugar-sparkle fairy, who had become caught in a sugarplum tree! He was curious, because he had never seen a fairy before. He freed her from the branches._

"_Thank you very much, Great King," said the fairy. "To repay you for saving my life, I will grant you one wish."_

_King Candy knew exactly what to ask for. "I wish for a child of my very own!" he said._

_The fairy waved her wand, and in a puff of sparkles, a little girl appeared. Her name was Princess Vanellope von Schweetz, and she was the sweetest child in all of the kingdom of Sugar Rush. King Candy adored his new daughter, and he often called her his sugarplum, in honor of the tree that had given her to –_

"Oh, come on! No fair!"

"Ha ha, see you at the finish line, Molly!"

"You are such a cheater, Hunter! I hate you!"

Mr. Litwak sighed and lowered the Sugar Rush promotional booklet that had come in the mail that morning. He had a small collection of similar documents, which gave general information and recounted entertaining little stories about various games in the arcade, oftentimes things that weren't even present in the games themselves. If nothing else, it gave him something to read on slow weekdays like today. He adjusted his trusty old glasses and glanced down at his watch; it was nearly closing time. All he had to do now was wait for Molly and Hunter to finish their rather heated game of Sugar Rush and then lock up for the night.

"Settle down over there, kids," he called halfheartedly, already aware that it wouldn't do much good.

Molly, a young blonde girl with pinked-rimmed glasses, and her older brother Hunter, who always wore the same battered hi-tops and cargo pants, were two of the most frequent visitors to the arcade. Mr. Litwak found it amusing to watch their interactions as they battled Cy-Bugs, hopped aboard jet skis, and finally finished up at the saccharine go-kart game that had been noticeably more popular for a while now. Molly was no slouch at gaming, especially for someone her age, but her brother certainly put up a fight when they competed against each other. Sugar Rush just so happened to be his specialty.

Mr. Litwak wandered over just in time to see Hunter pump a fist into the air triumphantly. On the console screen, his avatar – Turbo, the bonus character that had been unlocked a few months back and was on the roster nearly every day now – crossed the finish line and launched into his victory animations. The little white racer grinned broadly, his dull yellow teeth flashing, and flicked both thumbs into the air. "Turbo-Tastic!" he declared.

Molly was playing as Vanellope, who finished in second and offered a little smile and wave to the virtual crowd. "Not too bad! We'll get 'em next time!"

"Hunter cheated," complained Molly, scooting around in the console's plastic seat to face Mr. Litwak.

"I did _not_," her brother contradicted. "I just know how to use the teleportation ability better than you!"

"All right, you two, it's not a big deal," Mr. Litwak urged them, shaking his head at the silliness of their conflict. He was well aware that both the Vanellope and Turbo avatars had a short-term teleportation ability, and that it often resulted in players accusing one another of cheating. Come to think of it, he'd always sort of wondered why Turbo had that power when it had certainly never been a part of the original Turbo Time game...

"How's the game working, by the way?" he remarked. "It's not giving you any trouble, is it?"

Hunter shook his head. "No, it's fine. What, did you update it recently or something?"

"Just installed a little software patch this morning, and I know that sometimes the machines act up for a couple days after that," replied Mr. Litwak. "Glad to hear that there's no trouble. All right, kids, looks like it's about closing time for me, so I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you to get up now."

The two siblings gathered up their remaining quarters and headed out, still bantering amiably, and waved at Mr. Litwak as the door banged shut behind them. Mr. Litwak was striding through that same door not three minutes later, sparing a last glance at Vanellope and Turbo smiling on the Sugar Rush "Game Over" screens, and made sure to fasten the locks behind him.

As soon as the coast was clear, the avatar dancing through the DDR demo ignored the arrows still scrolling across the screen and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Arcade's closed, everyone!" she called.

And from every cabinet and console, muffled grumbles or sighs of relief drifted up from the speakers as the characters concluded another day of work.

"_Wellll_, Vanny," drawled Turbo, eyelids lowering smugly as he glanced at the little girl opposite him, "I think that last race puts me ahead for the day, don't you?"

"Oh, shut up!" she protested. "It was eleven to ten, big deal! And I know for a fact that number four had never played our game before."

"Mhm. That's what they all say."

"You ain't that good, Pajama Boy. I'm gonna whip cream that ego of yours as soon as we start up the Random Roster Race."

"Ooh, I'm so scared'a the pretty pink pony princess!"

"That's _president_ to you!"

"Well, I'm gonna – "

"Kids," barked Sergeant Tamora Jean Calhoun, glaring at the duo from her position in Hero's Duty. "Don't make me come over there!"

Turbo spread his pale hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. We're done," he submitted. Vanellope giggled and poked her tongue out at him.

Then, in almost perfect unison, the two racers pivoted on their heels and hopped out of sight, deserting the Sugar Rush screens. Their 'shifts' were over, after all. The arcade was closed...time to wipe the slate clean and run the daily qualifying race, set everything up for tomorrow, and then relax and enjoy their few hours off.

…

Vanellope von Schweetz, the nine-year-old princess-turned-president and official leader of Sugar Rush, sauntered onto the track of the Royal Raceway with an entourage of eight other racers grouped around her – the nine of them had taken top placing in yesterday's Random Roster Race, and thus had been enabled as playable characters for the day. The group currently included such faces as Taffyta Muttonfudge, Crumbelina di Carmello, Torvald Batterbutter, and of course Turbo, who flopped down in a rough approximation of a circle not far from the starting line. There was always a thirty-minute break between the arcade closing and the start of the after-hours races, and they always used the time to rest, chitchat, and exchange snacks gathered from various areas around the game.

"Anybody want some fancy chocolate?" offered Adorabeezle Winterpop, producing a fistful of milky brown squares from her coat pocket. Candy never melted in Adorabeezle's grasp; it was as if she had been programmed with built-in refrigeration. "It's the really good stuff!"

"I'll take some, Beezle," said Taffyta. Her eyes widened as she nibbled daintily on the chocolate. "Mmm, this _is_ really good!"

Vanellope shrugged and accepted a piece, hastily followed by Turbo, who sat cross-legged and tense beside her. Even a few months after being assimilated into the game, Turbo still wasn't exactly a social butterfly, due to both limited programming and lack of experience. His code made him accustomed to being the center of attention in large crowds, but regular interaction required a lot of effort for him even just to build up a facade of normality. Honestly, she was sort of in the same boat. Her designers had intended her to be the sweetest little girl in the entire kingdom, but fifteen years of isolation and bullying had altered that permanently...

But that was all over now, she reminded herself. She had Ralph, and Felix, and Sergeant Calhoun, and Turbo...and she was proud of Turbo for finally beginning to peek out of his reclusive shell and socialize. He could almost be called friends with some of the other characters, like Adorabeezle and Rancis and the palette-swaps (Vanellope had learned the hard way how much they hated the term "recolors"). And at least the racers were treating Vanellope less like "we must stay on the president's good side or else she'll execute us" and more like an equal. All in all, she was impressively surprised with how well everything had worked out in the end.

"Hey, Turbo," she commented, munching her chocolate. "Got a question for ya. Do you know what a software patch is?"

Turbo licked his lips absently. "A what?"

"A software patch. You know, Mr. Litwak was talking about it to those last couple kids – "

"Yeah, I heard him, glitter-graphics. I was there, remember?" He snapped off a fragment of candy in his mouth cautiously. He never liked to reveal any more of his teeth than was necessary, possibly because of the creepy, unnaturally huge and toothy yellow grin that he'd been created with. "But I don't know what he meant by that."

Taffyta emitted a contemptuous snort. "You've never even heard of a software patch? Talk about behind the times."

Vanellope groaned inwardly as she watched Turbo's expression flatten into a steady glare. Just because he was forming bonds in his new home game didn't mean that he got along with everyone, after all...she supposed that it was a given, considering his history, but that didn't make his little rivalry with Taffyta any less obnoxious.

"Gee, sugar brat," retorted Turbo evenly. "I guess I _should _know what it is, since I've been here for such a long time. But I don't. It's almost like I can't remember the past thirty years of my life or something – oh, _wait_." His mouth pulled downwards sharply into a scowl.

"Just because you can't remember any of that stuff doesn't mean that it didn't happen!" Taffyta pointed out with a sneer.

"You guys," Vanellope interrupted. "Quit being butts." Through some incredibly strange turn of events, she considered both Taffyta and Turbo to be two of her best friends. She just wished that they'd at least put up a pretense of civility and not go at each other all the time. Adjusting the licorice twist that secured her candy-spattered ponytail, she cleared her throat and turned to Taffyta hopefully. "So, you know what a software patch is?"

"Er, no," the strawberry girl admitted, an uncomfortable flush rising in her cheeks. "I've just heard of them is all. Mr. Litwak talks about installing them every so often..."

"Oh, so _you're _real helpful, Miss Know-It-All. I see," snapped Turbo. Red static spluttered in angry patches across his white form. Even after all these months of using his glitch to his advantage while racing, he still had a very difficult time trying to clamp down on his damaged code while his emotions were riding high.

Taffyta's petite nostrils flared. "At least I know more than _you_ do, you creepy little sicko!"

"Sugar brat!"

"Glitch!"

"Crumb-snatcher!"

"Ghost boy!"

Turbo's lemon-colored eyes narrowed, and his muscles tensed, as if he were preparing to lunge forward. Just in time, Vanellope looped an arm around his neck to hold him back if need be. "You _guys_," she complained again.

Fortunately, Felix, Calhoun, and Ralph – the trio ubiquitously referred to by the Sugar Rush racers, and especially Vanellope and Turbo, as the _grown-ups_ – chose that time to arrive at the raceway en masse. Calhoun and Felix, who must have just arrived from Hero's Duty, were stepping off of Calhoun's cruiser and offering short waves of greeting to Ralph. Vanellope grinned and scampered up to them eagerly, paying no attention to Turbo's frustrated mutters behind her as he hauled himself to his feet and brushed cocoa dust from the knees of his jumpsuit.

"Heya, Stinkbrain!" she chirped as she flounced up to Ralph. The wrecker was more than a little intimidating to look at, what with his massive destructive hands, colossal size, and seemingly permanent glower, but his face pulled into a warm smile when he saw her coming. He lifted a blocky fist in a gesture of offering, and she hopped up to tap her knuckles against his. "What's shakin'?"

"Not much." His eyes drifted over to the group of her now slightly nervous friends, and to the clearly unhappy Turbo now striding towards the adults. "Did something happen, or...?"

"Turbo and Taffyta were just being butts to each other again," replied Vanellope dismisively. "Anyway, I got a question for ya. Do you know what a software patch is?"

Ralph's brow furrowed, but as he seemingly prepared to answer that he wasn't sure, Sergeant Calhoun perked up and swiftly inserted herself into the conversation. "A software patch? It's a kind of very minor update that modern arcade games get every so often. My game's gotten a few already."

Vanellope blinked. "An update? What does it do?"

"Not much, really. Mostly it just smooths out bumps in the programming, clears out mistakes, gets rid of glitches...that sort of thing. Sometimes they'll add in one or two new features, but that's about it."

"Oh." The tiny president tilted her head, feeling reassured that this unknown alteration to the game wouldn't have too much of an impact. "So, it's nothing to worry about, then?"

"Of course not, kiddo," confirmed Calhoun, giving Vanellope a brisk pat on top of the head. An affectionate gesture, coming from the sarge.

"Jiminy jaminy," contributed Felix, shuffling up to stand beside his wife. "Games are so _complicated _nowadays. Back in my day, the developers just made the game and then put it out into the world! You couldn't make any changes or update it after it was finished..."

Vanellope spotted a pale shape approaching from the edge of per peripheral vision, and she didn't need to turn around to know that Turbo had overheard the discussion. "Huh? Update?" he repeated. "Is that what this software patch is? We're getting updated?" Anxiety was seeping into his voice at the very concept. Turbo was definitely the sort of person who didn't take well to change...at all.

"No, Pajama Boy, we're not," she told him dismissively. "It's no big deal, don't sweat it. Now come on, it's almost time for the race! I gotta get things started!" She bounced on her feet, making a break to speed-glitch for the popcorn box towering above the raceway, but Ralph's hand dropped down in front of her to block her passage.

"Sorry, kid, one last thing," he said. "Felix and the sarge have decided that they want some _alone_ time tonight..." He cleared his throat meaningfully, and Turbo giggled for some reason that she couldn't comprehend. "...so I'm gonna be taking you and Turbo out to Tapper's for a little while after dinner. You guys can grab some root beer floats or shakes or whatever you want. Sound good?"

"Yeah!" cheered Vanellope, pumping her chubby little fist into the air.

Turbo scrunched up his face disdainfully.

"Oh, don't look like that, Bo," she groaned. "So you have to shock yourself a little to get past the barrier, big deal! It's better than not being able to leave at all!"

"It's not that." He scuffed the heel of his sneaker in the sugary dirt. "Every time I go to Tapper's, everybody's either staring at me or _glaring_ at me. When I'm there it's like nothing's changed at all in the past thirty years, in a bad way. I'm always getting called a dumb kid or..." His eyes cooled slightly. "A ghost boy."

Vanellope heaved a sigh, but now her annoyance was tinged with sympathy. She was all too familiar with being constantly bullied, slapped with a label until you couldn't stand it, wondering if it would be better for everyone if you just hid yourself in some dark hole and never came out again... "You know you're better than that. Come on. It won't be that bad, and besides, Ralph'll pound anyone who tries to push your buttons!"

"And you've hardly left the game half a dozen times since your reset," Ralph added. "Maybe if you went out a little more frequently, the novelty would wear off..."

Turbo's shoulders dropped. "Okay, fine, I'll go," he submitted. "But I won't like it!"

"No one's asking you to like it. Quit moping around." A mischievous gleam ignited in her eyes. "Or else I'm gonna rip that helmet off of ya and use it as a soccer ball."

He stiffened, and his hands automatically lifted to clamp down on the sides of his head protectively. "You wouldn't dare..."

The two of them had returned to roughhousing within moments, scampering back towards the other Sugar Rush racers and leaving the adults to take their seats in the Assorted Fans section. Felix chuckled. "Oh, those kids."

"Sometimes I still find it hard to believe that the two of them get along so well," Ralph commented.

Felix glanced at his "brother" sidelong. "You're not saying it's a problem, are you?"

"No, I actually think it's great. Vanellope gets a playmate who it's not so dangerous to wrestle with, and Turbo isn't a bad kid at all." Ralph chuckled lightly. "I'm still trying to get used to that."

"Me, too," agreed Felix, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "What do you both suppose that this software patch is going to bring to Sugar Rush? Maybe it comes with some new courses, or even new characters..."

"I'm sure that it's going to change nothing," stated Calhoun decisively. "Nothing at all."


	3. Half-finished backstory

…

_Half-finished backstory_

…

On weekday nights, the atmosphere at Tapper's was usually pretty subdued; Ralph was well aware of this, and honestly, he wouldn't have felt comfortable taking the kids there if it had been otherwise. He, Felix, and Calhoun had always enforced an unspoken rule that the bar was off-limits over the weekend, especially on Sunday, and that they would have to stick to Burger Time and King of the Kitchen for their out-of-game refreshments. The last thing he wanted was for a couple of children to get caught up in a drunken tirade, which seemed more and more likely nowadays, what with Turbo being a part of their patchwork family now...

Granted, both kids had some knowledge of how to take care of themselves, and they'd done it successfully for a number of years. But Ralph felt that ever since his game had been unplugged, he'd been unofficially assigned the job of "babysitter." He was still surprised by how protective he could feel towards the bratty little gobstopper who had stolen his medal and a former game-jumping psychopath.

_But by now, so much weird stuff has happened to me that I'm not even gonna question it anymore_.

"Hey there, Ralph," greeted Tapper as the wrecker squeezed his way in, with Vanellope swinging her legs idly on his shoulder and Turbo glitching nervously just beside them. "Full entourage today?"

"Just these two," Ralph grunted, plucking Vanellope up by her hood and dropping her onto a stool. "Might as well hit us with the usuals, Tapper. I'm not sure how long we'll be here."

"You know you're always welcome. The usuals, coming up." Then Tapper was hailed by a few Street Fighter characters clustered in the back, and he snatched up a few mugs before heading over to them.

Vanellope glanced over as Turbo clambered up on the seat beside her, propping her chin in her fists hopefully. "See, it's not so bad around here after all...is it, Pajama Boy?"

"No, I guess not," responded Turbo. His voice came out flat and nonchalant, in stark contrast to the red static still spluttering against his white body now and then. "Are we ever going to explain the King Candy thing to them? I mean, we've tried to announce that I'm not evil and everything, but maybe it would help my cause a little if they understood why..."

Ralph sucked his lower lip into his mouth. "I don't think they _would _understand, kid."

Years of life in the arcade had taught him that most characters categorized their peers as either "good" or "evil," preferring stark black versus white as opposed to gradients of gray. There were already few enough people who believed that Turbo had really reformed, and Ralph suspected that that it would do no good to try communicating that the racer had undergone more than a simple change of sides. To tell the entire story, they would have to get through malware, recoding, hard resets, the formation of mega-viruses...Ralph hardly understood it all himself most of the time. He'd never been too astute with all of that technical jargon.

Turbo's gently luminescent yellow eyes fixated on a smear marring the gleaming bar top, which he absently traced with his thumb. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Even if they did understand, who'd care? No one's been exactly clamoring for my return – youch! What was that for, glitter-graphics?!"

Vanellope, who had delivered a swift sock to Turbo's shoulder, scrunched up her face at him. "Quit having a pity party. I wasn't looking forward to you coming back, either, until I actually, like, got to _know_ you. Maybe if you actually tried talking to people sometimes..."

Turbo glanced over at Ralph, face twisting into a strained expression that the wrecker swore he'd once seen on King Candy's face (in the days before "King Candy" had been nothing more than a malware program, of course). If there was one thing that the infamous teenager and the bad guy could claim to have in common, it was that social skills seemed to have been excluded from both of their codes. "That's easier said than done, President Fart-feathers," Ralph pointed out, lightly tapping Vanellope atop her ponytail. She poked her tongue out at him.

Tapper reappeared just then with two root beers and a milkshake in tow, which he slid across the bar to Ralph, Vanellope, and Turbo respectively. Then the bartender removed the stain that Turbo had been fingering with a swipe of his cleaning cloth. "There you go, the usuals. You know, Turbo, you oughtta try the root beer sometime. There's nothing wrong with it, I promise."

"I don't really like soda," responded Turbo, wrapping his pale hands around the milkshake glass. "And root beer is soda."

"Yeah, he doesn't like soda 'cause it killed him one time, back when he flew into the beacon as King Candybug!" announced Vanellope helpfully.

Ralph was glad that he hadn't gulped up a mouthful of his drink yet, because it would have sprayed out of his mouth so forcefully that the opposite wall would have become completely soaked.

Turbo glitched. "You know, I can't even remember that happening, glitter-graphics. But thanks for putting that idea in my head."

"You're welcome!"

Until they returned home again that night, Ralph could have sworn that Turbo cast more than a few wary glances in the direction of the root beer barrels lining the walls, but the uncomfortable subject didn't come up again. And fortunately, neither of the kids took notice when the Street Fighter crew in the back realized that a certain infamous game-wrecker was among them and began to stare and whisper amongst themselves. The colossal wrecker discouraged them from approaching with a few surly glares of his own.

Turbo or no Turbo, the kids were his responsibility, and no one was going to threaten them as long as he was around.

…

Later that night, after everyone had returned home to the Sugar Rush castle and was preparing for bed – after Felix had already changed into his baby blue jammies, with the presence of Calhoun's kisses still lingering on his lips (and cheeks, and neck, and other places) – he was sitting on the edge of the bed beside his beloved wife as she passed a comb through her cropped hair, and he decided to bring up a certain subject, not for the first time. She responded in the same way as always.

"Fix-It, stop," she sighed. "Do you really have to keep bringing this up? We already know it's out of the question."

"Are you sure you won't even consider it?" he pleaded, folding his hands beneath his chin.

"It's not a matter of me _considering _it. We've talked about this before, Felix. As much as either of us might want it to be otherwise, we can't change the fact that video game characters can't have children."

Felix lowered his eyes in resignation, plowing ungloved fingers through his bangs.

Very few characters in gaming history had been programmed with the functionality to become pregnant. The only example that came to his mind at all were the Sims, and they weren't even an arcade game! That didn't mean that there were no other people with designated families who were really related to them, of course; plenty of heros and villains and NPCs alike had mothers, fathers, siblings, and yes...even children. But all evidence indicated that characters from the same game couldn't have unprogrammed children, and when it came to characters from different games, the phenomenon was universally accepted to be an impossibility.

After marrying Tamora Jean Calhoun, his dynamite gal, the ever-optimistic Felix had continued to hold out hope that maybe they'd be the ones to prove the cynics wrong. He had discussed it with her, and after they had both agreed that they felt ready for a potential child, they had tried their hand at having one...without any luck whatsoever. Time and effort didn't seem to matter much against their coded capabilities.

It was discouraging, to say the least, but miracles could still happen. Couldn't they?

That was Felix's thinking. Calhoun, he had learned a while ago, was not the sort of person who believed in miracles.

"Do you think our creators knew what they were doing?" he wondered aloud, swinging his legs idly.

Calhoun snorted. "I'm sure they did. And I'm sure they also didn't want a bunch of random unprogrammed children running around."

"But don't they know that we're people too? That we have thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams, and some of those hopes and dreams involve wanting families of our own? It just seems awful cruel to me."

Her expression softened, and she tugged him forward by his collar, brushing her lips against his nose.

While Felix was still trying to cool down the honeyglows that had bloomed from this unexpected gesture of affection, she told him, "Even if the developers knew, they wouldn't understand just how complicated things can get around here. Besides, Fix-It, we do have a family. A crazy mixed-up family, but it's ours nonetheless. We're just gonna have to deal with being programmed childless."

"I suppose you're right." He rubbed his chin. "Although that does bring up an interesting point, though..."

"What's that?"

"If the developers didn't want a bunch of children running around and causing trouble, then why're there so many kids in this arcade who don't have a parent or guardian to speak of?"

…

Unbeknownst to the two adults, a very similar conversation was taking place between Turbo and Vanellope at the same time, in the royal/presidential bedchambers. They too had scrubbed themselves clean and changed into their pajamas, and they two were debating whether or not their creators had known that they were sentient, starting with their backstories...or lack thereof.

"Yeah, I don't actually have a real backstory," Vanellope admitted. "And I've checked the code vault and everything, so I know that all my memories are intact. The people who made the game just didn't bother to give me one. They figured I didn't need it, I guess."

"So they just stuck you in this sugary kingdom and boom, that's it?" Turbo gestured broadly to the castle of confections all around them. "No explanation of how it got here or what the world is like, or why you're the princess, or why you all race, or who all the other kids are? And none of you have any parents or anything?"

"I know _some _stuff about this place, like double stripes break, but that's really it. What's it matter anyway, Pajama Boy? As long as everything works how it's supposed to, why do we need to have a fancy story to explain why things are like this?"

Turbo folded his arms across his chest decisively. "But that just proves what I'm sayin'. The programmers don't know that we're alive in here. Otherwise, wouldn't they at least have given you parents?"

"Wellll...they gave me Sour Bill," she pointed out. "Plus this huge castle and a bunch of other cool places that the gamers never get to see. I think you're wrong, Turbo. I think they gotta know."

A scowl was his only answer at first. They were both seated on her immense canopy bed, and he scooted back slightly, pulling his knees against his chest. "...well, they sure didn't give any extras to me, that's for sure."

Vanellope spread out on her tummy. "What's your backstory, then? Do you have one?"

"Kind of. There was originally going to be a little bit of story in Turbo Time, but it all got cut at the last minute. I think there must have been a lot of budget cuts or somethin'. Anyway, I still remember what it was going to be..."

She drummed her feet against the comforter. "Tell me!"

"It's nothin' fancy, I promise." He twisted himself to face her, dropping down to his elbows. "I was s'posed to be a 'prodigal young racer.' Y'know, one'a the best in the world, youngest pro ever...that kind of thing. And the twins were my slightly less awesome friends who had come to join the – I dunno, the racing league or whatever. And the whole world loved me." His eyes seemed to be misting over a bit, but in a sorrowful way, as if he fully acknowledged that the bygone days he was recollecting had never happened at all. Even back in Turbo Time, his "fans" had been nothing more than colored pixels filling bleachers that would have otherwise been vacant.

"That's why I'm programmed to be so young," he continued. "The original story said that I was a fifteen-year-old racing prodigy. And it also said that..." He gulped, and a glitch crackled through him briefly like a smattering of red sparkles. "That I had p-parents."

Vanellope's breath hitched.

"Sometimes I used to imagine what it'd be like if they had been added to the game after all. The only two real spectators, cheering me on in every race, proud of me...i-it woulda been nice, I won't lie. But I don't think they were ever s'posed to be characters in the game. They're just memories, and memories that aren't even of people. Just sorta...memories of the concept of having parents." He shrugged listlessly, resting his chin on the bedspread. "No names or faces, no idea what they were gonna be like. But I still felt like something was missing sometimes. But I'm not complaining. It would have been even harder if they'd been real characters that got phased out at the last minute."

"My dad got phased out at the last minute," she blurted.

That stopped Turbo up short. He blinked at her in confusion, white brows pulling down over the dark hollows around his eyes. "What?"

"Uh, I mean..." She grasped at straws, even more taken aback than he was. _Good gobstoppers, why'd I say such a weird thing?! _"King Candy. He was phased out at the last minute, right? And since he's a king and I was made to be the princess, that sort of makes him my dad...doesn't it?"

He tensed immediately at the mention of King Candy. "No, it doesn't! You weren't even gonna be the princess at first, remember? They only changed you after they decided he wouldn't be in the game. You were just a racer before."

"Right, right, of course." She breathed out slowly. "I guess that was kinda dumb, huh? Sorry, I don't know why I said that."

"I don't know why you said it, either," he muttered, and she was dismayed when Turbo lowered himself to the ground, his anxiety trigger pulled by the mention of his malicious alter ego. "H-he's your dad like I'm your brother..."

A smile skittered across her lips. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'd much rather have you as my brother than him as my dad."

That extracted a tiny little grin from him, fortunately. "Thanks. Um, I'm going to bed now, Vanny, so...good night."

"Good night, Bo. Sleep tight. Don't let the Cy-Bugs bite."

"That's not funny."

Vanellope giggled impishly and lay back, tucking the blankets around her in little-homeless-lady fashion. But the conversation continued to pester her for quite some time after that. It wasn't just the sad reality of her best friend's half-finished backstory, which was pretty depressing in itself. No, what bothered her most of all was the comment she had made, a statement that made less and less sense the more she turned it over in her mind.

King Candy had been, at differing points in history, a deactivated and unused character model, a disguise, and a vicious conglomeration of malware and add-ons, in that order. But he had never been a real person, and he had certainly never been related to her at all, much less her father.

So why, why, _why _had she suddenly thought of him as her dad?


	4. The dreams begin

…

_The dreams begin_

…

Being a video game character meant that whenever there was a trait that you despised about yourself, you could usually blame your developers for programming it into you. For example, Sergeant Tamora Jean Calhoun was often less than thrilled with her disproportionate build, which appeared to have been designed by several twenty-something males fueled only by testosterone and coffee. At least they'd had the good sense to cover her up in actual functional clothing, unlike the Lara Crofts of the arcade. But then there was her backstory and personality, and that was some of the cheapest character development she'd ever encountered in her life.

Of course someone who was hard-nosed and commanding and strong couldn't just be that way naturally; no, there had to be some past agony that had caused it. And if you were a woman, that past agony had to involve a man. Hence, the creation of that suave scientist Dr. Brad Scott, who as far as Calhoun knew had never existed as anything more than a memory and some cutscene.

She was a logical person, and that was why the problem of Brad Scott infuriated her so. Why did she have to be stuck missing him when she knew very well that she'd never even met him in the first place?!

Nevertheless, she was a product who came with emotional baggage attached, including all the classic symptoms of brooding: nightmares, randomly triggered flashbacks, and insomnia – the very particular type of insomnia that, in her current situation, led to her wandering about the castle, piercing the empty corridors with her bedazzling stare as her thoughts roamed pensively. What else could be expected from a game's female lead?

As usual, she was thinking about Felix. More specifically, she couldn't stop contemplating how persistent he'd been in their fruitless quest for children. Calhoun liked children just fine, as a rule; she didn't love them, but there was nothing she found awful about the little rugrats, either. She wouldn't have been too disappointed with not being able to have some of her own, if it weren't for her husband. He would get that dreamy look in his eyes, and that telling sigh to his voice, and of course the signature honeyglow in his cheeks. And she hated to make him sad when he got like that.

Come to think of it, she'd hated to make him sad from the very start. Otherwise, she wouldn't have let him accompany her to seek out the Cy-Bug in Sugar Rush, or instigated their first kiss, or agreed to have let him take on that whole "resetting Turbo" project. Turbo had turned out to be not that bad of a kid in the end, but you could never be too careful, right?

Speaking of Turbo...

She was striding through the hallway where everyone's bedchambers were located (the five of them, spread into four rooms, stayed close out of preference rather than necessity), something she found she often did, as if keeping a patrol to protect her family. As she passed Turbo's room, her sharp ears pricked at the sound of rustling sheets and muffled whimpers.

Sighing, she took a single step back. The kid was having a nightmare; that was nothing new. She wondered if he'd get a handle on his dream before even waking up, or end up jolting into consciousness with a scream. She'd even seen him slip into a panic attack on one or two occasions, and Felix'd had to go sit with him until he calmed down.

As if on cue, there came a shout from behind his door. But it wasn't the wordless shriek she'd expected. Instead, it sounded an awful lot like, "_Mama!_"

Calhoun quirked an eyebrow.

_Mama? _He must have had some awfully weird things running through his head. Or else she'd misheard, which was also a possibility.

Still, she remained where she was, eyes locked on his bedroom door. Everyone would be protected on her watch, whether it was from Cy-Bugs, prowlers, or recurring nightmares. But after several minutes passed in silence, she decided that Turbo must have fallen asleep again, and squared her shoulders as she prepared to move on. Maybe it was time for her to go back to bed, as well.

That was when the door in front of her slitted open with a telling _creeeaaaak_.

Turbo slipped out of his room, and even without his glowing yellow eyes breaking up the darkness, his very white form would have been obvious to her acute vision. It was easy to spot the outline of his round helmet, which apparently he didn't even take off to sleep, and she could even see the darker patches on his fleece footie pajamas that made up the race car pattern. He blinked a few times and started to set off down the hall at an unsteady, loping pace...

"Where you headin' off to, squirt?"

Turbo jumped – literally, his feet actually left the ground – and lit up the darkened hallway like a sparkler as he crackled into red pixels. "Who's there?!" he demanded, pupils flitting wildly back and forth.

"Shhh!" Calhoun crouched down on one knee so that she didn't look like such a tall, imposing figure. "Cool your jets. It's only me."

He exhaled shakily, slowly taking in her blonde bedhead, battered sweatpants, and ragged old camisole, and finally realized what he was looking at. "M-Ms. Calhoun?"

"Yeah, it's me, kid. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"S'okay."

"So, what are you doing out of bed, huh?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Turbo began to fidget with the cuff of his sleeve, pinching and rubbing the fabric between thumb and forefinger. "I had a bad dream. Couldn't fall asleep. I was just gonna take a walk real quick, then go back to bed."

"Is that why you were calling for your 'mama?'"

His eyes widened like a pair of oncoming headlights. "You heard that?!" he exclaimed in a half-whisper.

"I did. Thought it was a bit strange..."

"Yeah, it's hard to explain...um..." He stretched up his arm, rubbing the back of his neck.

Awkwardness dropped over the atmosphere between them, as smothering as a damp blanket. Calhoun was becoming aware of something she hadn't considered before. When it came to massive threats, she had always taken it upon herself to be prepared, and so she'd done the research on Turbo after he'd initially been discovered in Sugar Rush. Over a period of months, she'd uncovered the pieces, learned about malware and virus infestations, discovered that King Candy had once existed only as an unused character model, and made deductions from there. But much of her information had been based on eyewitness accounts. And those witnesses were biased, inclined to say that "he was always nasty" or "oh, I always knew there was something I didn't like about him" because of events that had occurred later on. No one had bothered to remember his actual age, after all.

Since his reset, she knew that no one she'd spoken to before really had that much intel on Turbo, because he hadn't exactly been a socialite while his game was still plugged in. And she hadn't spent much time with him in the past few months, had she? Ralph and Felix had; that was why he simply called them by their first names. But she was still "Ms. Calhoun."

She knew very little about him, and he knew very little about her.

"Well," she started, "I was having a bit of trouble sleeping myself. Maybe we could walk together."

Turbo dipped his head in a nod. "Sure we could."

She walked down the corridor, and he padded along after her, hurrying to keep up with her long-legged strides. He was so tiny, Calhoun marveled, just a little bit bigger than Vanellope. The top of his helmet barely came up to her knee. It was hard to think of him as a teenager when he was so small.

"So, what were you dreaming about?" she questioned, her voice rising slightly as they exited the area of the castle where people were sleeping.

"Oh, y'know, the usual. Nightmares about King Malware." Turbo worked at his lip and stared at the ground bitterly.

"Mm." She made a little sympathetic humming noise. "Then, what you said was...?"

"...just something that slips out sometimes." He gazed up at her, luminescent yellow orbs resplendent in the dim light. She had the feeling that she normally wasn't the grown-up who he'd share this sort of thing with, but there was something funny about being up in the middle of the night. It made you more vulnerable to every emotion, stripped out all pretenses, left you with only the central core of who you truly were. "Y'see, back when Turbo Time was in development and they decided to make me a kid...they were gonna give me parents at first. But in the end, they didn't bother. I still have that in my memory, just, like, a memory of what it's like to have parents...but I don't know who they were, what they looked like, nothin'. Sometimes, when I wake up from a really scary dream, I'll wake up screamin' for my mom. But I don't have a mom. I never did. It's stupid."

Calhoun found herself surprisingly struck by this. "...it's not stupid."

"Yeah, it is."

"No, it's not." She knelt down again, this time so that it was easier to maintain eye contact. "I've never told you my backstory, have I? And I'm guessing that Felix never brought it up either?"

Turbo shook his head.

"Let me clue you in, then..."

She made her account short and concise. In the past, she had spoken to Felix about her relations with Brad at length, and he'd listened ever so patiently, but the content of her programmed history wasn't something that a kid would fully understand. Still, the raw energy of the late night caused some of the long-dulled pain to emerge in her eyes.

Turbo visibly cringed when she reached the point in the story where a Cy-Bug had crashed through a chapel window. He'd developed a phobia of the rotten not-so-little monsters ever since his encounter with King Candybug. Calhoun recalled the day that Turbo and Vanellope had come poking around in Hero's Duty before she'd completed her perimeter check...it hadn't been pretty, to say the least.

"You can remember all of that?" he asked when she was finished.

She was still crouched before him on one knee. "Yep."

"I mean, you can remember _everything_? And it never even happened at all?"

"Yeah. Funny how that works, isn't it?" Her gaze become thoughtful and unfocused. "And yet I don't remember anything about my childhood at all. My backstory begins at the day I joined the Space Marines. It's the same with Felix – his first memory is getting his magic hammer from ol' Felix Senior. And Ralph couldn't tell you exactly how he came to be living in a stump in the middle of the forest. It's just the way he was made to be."

Turbo bobbed his head in understanding. "And Vanny doesn't have any backstory at all. She's just the princess. Or president, now."

"And you've got bits and pieces of a backstory that was never finished." The edge of her lip curled up in a slight smile, and she poked his little snub nose lightly. "Because your programmers were lazy bums."

She couldn't have explained why she felt so incredibly satisfied when he giggled.

"Bottom line, there's nothing stupid about falling victim to your programming," she continued. "It happens to the best of us. There's no shame in missing the parents you were supposed to have, especially when you were out on your own."

"Yeah."

"And hey, you don't need any fake memories of parents anymore, do ya? You have all of us now."

"Yeah."

The boy's voice had become rather hushed, and his eyes were downcast once again.

Calhoun hesitated before straightening up. _You don't WANT those parents, do you? _she almost asked, but thought better of it. He probably missed his "real parents" in the same way that she missed Brad Scott: in a nonsensical manner that he knew was completely illogical, and was now muted by a substitute that was very much real. And besides, she may not have known Turbo that well, but he'd never struck her as a mama's boy.

"Come on, squirt. Let's get you back to bed." She finally got to her feet. "Can't have you tired out on the roster tomorrow."

"I c'n put myself to bed. M'not a baby." Turbo blinked, and the slight tinge of sadness in his face dissolved. "Ms. Calhoun?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for walkin' with me. It really did make me feel better."

Despite herself, she felt her heart swelling slightly. "Anytime."

…

The two of them returned to their respective bedrooms, both failing to notice that someone else was suffering from restless dreams, although this time, it wasn't exactly a nightmare...

Vanellope was shifting and fussing in bed, eyelids twitching. She was asleep, but her brain seemed to have shifted into overdrive.

_The first thing that was wrong was that she was wearing a dress. Not the giant pink poofy dress that she tried to avoid getting stuffed into on principle, but although this gown was shorter and slightly more manageable, it still wasn't something that the little president would have been caught dead wearing. But in the dream, she didn't question it._

_The second thing that was wrong was her tiara. Why was she even WEARING a tiara? Tiaras were for princesses, and she wasn't a..._

_But then there was the third thing that was wrong, and that was King Candy._

_His jacket was blue, not purple, and the wrapped-candy bow tie was a little fuller and puffier than she remembered. It was a different color, as well; maybe pink, maybe salmon? And the design of his crown wasn't quite the same as it had been before._

_They were in the throne room, which was now decked out in shades of regal purple and gold, and many of the flower decals had mysteriously disappeared. King Candy was talking to Sour Bill and gesticulating enthusiastically, while Vanellope, clad in her princess dress, played with a tea set and an assortment of stuffed animals on the floor._

"_It's been nearly one year since I was blessed with this little girl, hoo!" King Candy was saying. "We ought to have a celebration, don't you think, Sour Bill? A mag-NIF-icent birthday party!" His voice was just the same as it had been in real life, bouncy and singsong, with a prominent lisp._

_Sour Bill took notes on a candy wrapper scroll and peered up at the king apathetically, as if this was perfectly normal. King Candy was pacing now as he continued to prattle on: "We'll have bubblegum balloons! And streamers! And confetti! And of course the most e-NOR-mous cake that the bakery can whip off – with pink frosting, oh, she'll love that! Isn't that right, Vanellope? You'd like pink frosting on your cake, yes?"_

_At this point, Vanellope glanced up in irritation. "Papa, you said you'd come play with me!"_

"_In just a moment, my dearest vanilla bean! Tell Papa what color frosting you'd like on your birthday cake!"_

"_Pink," she stated decisively, when in reality, Vanellope would have preferred blue or green. As if to add to the confusion, she added, "With flowers."_

"_Pink with flowers, of course! Just perfect for a little princess!" King Candy beamed at her delightedly, then turned back to Sour Bill, fluffing the lapels of his jacket proudly. "Hoohoo! You see that, Sour Bill? I was right!"_

"_Mhmm."_

"_I certainly do know my little girl, don't I?"_

"_Of course you do, sire."_

"_We'll begin the preparations at once! But for now, I have a vanilla bean to attend to!" And with that, the saccharine monarch hurried over to Vanellope, the bells on his toes jingling softly._

_Up close, he looked largely the same as his malware counterpart...but his face was much kinder, with a goofy and gentle grin stretching from ear to ear. He settled down beside her. "Here I am, sugarplum! Now, am I to join your little tea party?"_

_Vanellope considered it. "No...I wanna wrestle instead!" She grinned impishly and tackled him to the ground, her multilayered petticoat softening the impact._

"_Aah – !" King Candy half cried out and half laughed as he went toppling against the tiled floor. His crown clattered off of his head, then reattached a moment later as if by a magnetic force. "V-Vanellope, how many times have I told you that princesses do not wrestle?! Looks like you're gonna have to get another visit from – the tickle monster!"_

_And with that, his rapidly wiggling fingers plunged beneath her armpits. Vanellope was soon squealing and kicking and wriggling in his grasp, protesting "Pa-HAHAHA-pa! Stappit! Eeeeheehee!"_

_She rolled over, away from his tickling hands, her eyes squeezed shut. She was giggling and gasping, and as she opened her eyes, she expected to see her papa smiling down at her..._

...but instead she saw the fabric of the canopy over her bed. It was still completely dark in her bedroom, the windows shuttered, which indicated that it was the middle of the night.

Just a dream. It was just a dream...

Vanellope gripped her plush comforter, heart beating against her tiny ribcage. She felt confused, and alone, and sad. An aching hole had opened up within her, a desire that she didn't understand and had never felt before. Not like this, anyway.

But it had only been some dumb dream. King Candy wasn't her father; that was just ridiculous. She was programmed parentless. Always had been, always would be. Heaving an immense sigh, she flopped over on her side, convinced that the dream would shortly recede into the blurriest recesses of her mind, as dreams were prone to do.

And yet she found that she couldn't fall asleep again. That feeling of loneliness continued to loom over her. And as for the dream, every detail remained crisp and vivid, playing out in a perfectly logical manner, imprinted in her head forever. In fact, it was less like a dream...

...and more like a memory.


	5. Changes

…

_Changes_

…

In the morning, Sour Bill and the other royal servants ushered in the dawn by drawing aside all of the castle's blackout curtains, and it looked as if today would be another sunny, saccharine day. And if Vanellope was a little more listless at breakfast time, well, who would notice anything strange about that? Children never liked to be woken up early, after all.

But in this case it was a necessity. Felix and Calhoun had work, and Turbo and Vanellope were on the roster; only Ralph had the luxury of sleeping in. Everyone else had somewhere to be before the arcade opened. Turbo and Vanellope changed into their day clothes, helped themselves to breakfast (since Felix, the resident chef, had already headed off to Hero's Duty), and brushed their teeth – quite vigorously, in Turbo's case, not that it helped to improve the color of his teeth at all.

It was only when they were on their way outside that they noticed the changes from yesterday's software patch that were beginning to take effect.

Contrary to the belief of anyone who had only seen the throne room, the entire Sugar Rush castle was not pink. It contained rooms and even entire wings dedicated to various other candy themes, most of which were in colors that could not even be remotely mistaken for salmon. The royal bedchambers were pink, but it had been taken by King Candy during his rule, and no one set foot in it on principle; it was presumably still filled with whatever items he'd accumulated through the years. Vanellope now slept in the second-largest bedroom, which was primarily purple, meaning that the throne room was the most garish-looking interior design she had to face on a regular basis.

Or it had been, anyway. Because on her way out the door, she and Turbo both froze at the realization that the décor had now changed to shades of regal lavender and gold, and that most of the flower decals had vanished without a trace.

For a moment, both young racers were silent, trying to fathom how the throne room had been redecorated overnight like this was one of those custom-life games.

"Oh!" Turbo was the first to speak up, albeit in a rather nervous tone of voice. "I'll bet I know what happened. This is because of that software patch, right? Ms. Calhoun said that it might cause little changes like this..."

"...y-yeah," Vanellope answered quickly. "I'm sure that's it. Nothing to worry about."

They hurried out to the garage, both of them made uncomfortable by the unspoken question still lingering: if the developers of Sugar Rush were going to issue a software patch, why would they make it affect an area that the gamers couldn't get to, even assuming that it was one of several small tweaks? And for Vanellope, there was something else, as well. In her dream last night, which she still remembered so vividly, the throne room had been done up exactly as it now looked. And come to think of it, while the color pink was easily associated with a princess...purple and gold were much more _kingly_.

That thought was enough to keep her uncharacteristically quiet and wide-eyed on the way to the Royal Raceway, which was the designated rendezvous point each morning for the day's racers.

On this particular morning, the roster consisted of: Vanellope and Turbo (of course), Taffyta, Rancis, Swizzle, Adorabeezle, Torvald, and Snowanna. Vanellope was surprised to find that her seven teammates also seemed to be jumpy and anxious. The shift was slight, but noticeable. Had all of them also awakened to find that an invisible interior decorator had broken into their houses? She couldn't even begin to guess, as everyone was doing their best to hide their restlessness from one another, refusing to acknowledge whatever it was that had spooked them.

The little president decided to pry, starting off with someone who she knew just loved to talk. She ambled over to Taffyta with her hands behind her back.

"Hey, Taffy-brains," Vanellope spoke up in a manner that she hoped sounded casual. "What's goin' on?"

Taffyta started, before quickly plastering a smile across her face at the sight of her friend. "Oh! Vanellope! Um, n-not much. Sorry, I'm a little out of it...I didn't sleep well last night."

"How come? Did a flock of black licorice crows decide to perch on your house?"

"No..." Taffyta's cheeks flushed. She had the kind of skin that would turn red at any provocation, including just feeling awkward. "I just had some funny dreams. That's all."

Vanellope had to try and do her best not to act shaken by this statement. "Oh, really? Were they about Gloyd putting gum in your hair again?"

Taffyta sighed in exasperation. "I don't want to talk about it..."

"Come on," pressed Vanellope. "You know you can tell me! Besides, it's not like I'll execute Gloyd because of your dreams." She giggled; 'execution' had become a running joke in Sugar Rush, and the term was now liberally applied to anything ranging from being tickled to getting squirted with icing.

"My dream wasn't about _that_, Vanellope!" Taffyta pressed her lips into a thin little line. For someone who was often found either intentionally or unintentionally being cruel to people, she certainly didn't take well to people teasing her at all. But when her gaze darted over for a split second to where Turbo was standing, wiping his goggles with his sleeve, Vanellope couldn't help but wonder if maybe the strawberry racer's testiness was justified.

"...it was about...King Candy," muttered Taffyta.

Vanellope didn't know whether she should feel sympathetic, or creeped out by the sheer amount of coincidences that had occurred that morning.

As previously mentioned, Taffyta could be a bit of a snooty know-it-all, and she hadn't completely given up her bullying ways after "the glitch" was revealed to be the rightful ruler of the game. She could be a little snot even to her closest friends, and lately, she had made Turbo the new target of her hatred. Vanellope knew that she should have hated Taffyta for the way she acted...but she couldn't bring herself to. Taffyta wasn't really a bad person. Just like Ralph was notoriously short-tempered or Turbo could go on about himself without realizing when he was getting excessive, it was just a facet of her personality that she had a difficult time controlling.

So Vanellope and Taffyta had hung out together a few times after King Candy's initial defeat, and eventually, they'd found that they got along surprisingly well. Vanellope liked playing around with Taffyta's generous supply of makeup, even if most of her makeovers came out looking like goths or clowns or goth clowns, and Taffyta liked brushing Vanellope's shiny black hair, which was much longer than her own cropped blonde locks. They talked about racing, or stupid things the other kids had done, or their adventures in other games...anything but the past fifteen years.

For Taffyta had hinted, but never confirmed, that she had once had a bond with King Candy that went beyond subject and king. At points, she almost spoke about him as if he were her role model...or father figure. And then she'd catch herself and quickly change the subject, but since Turbo's reset, Vanellope had begun to understand.

Malware or not, King Candy had still been a person – a person trapped within a corrupted shell, but a person nonetheless. He wasn't just evil, as much as it had seemed that way sometimes. He'd had feelings, and relationships, and dreams...maybe they weren't the same as those of the current Turbo, but that didn't make them any less real.

"Do you...want to go somewhere else and talk about this?" suggested Vanellope after a pause. They still had a few minutes before the arcade was set to open.

Taffyta nodded her consent, and the two girls hurried over to the sidelines of the track.

"Mind telling me exactly what was going on between you and King Candy?" asked Vanellope. She'd always been sort of curious about it, but it seemed especially relevant today, and they didn't have much time to talk besides.

"Nothing was going on," huffed Taffyta. "He didn't see me any differently than he did any of the other racers. I mean, maybe I was a little more _challenging_ to him than some of the others, but..."

"...he just thought of you as another competitor?"

"I guess. I mean, he was a little nicer to me than he was to the rest of us, kind of, and if I ever wanted advice, he'd give it to me...not that it was always good advice, unless it had to do with racing. But I really looked up to him. He was my role model...you have to understand that this was way before I knew about who he was and what he'd done to you," added Taffyta quickly.

Vanellope shrugged, stuffing her hands into her hoodie pouch. "I know. I'm not offended or nothin'." She had snuck into the Royal Raceway enough times during her fifteen years of exile to know that King Candy had been the top racer in the game. It made sense to idolize someone who was not only king, but also clearly had the skills to verify his leadership role. Besides, he'd been the only grown-up in Sugar Rush with even a smidgen of competence, even if it turned out that he wasn't exactly an adult in the end...

"And then you entered that Random Roster Race, and, well, we've all seen the video." Taffyta's expression had darkened considerably. "King Candy was a big fat liar."

"Yeah, but Turbo's not like – " Vanellope started to recite, but she quickly cut herself off. She was always telling the other racers "_Turbo's not like that anymore!_" and as a result, all but Taffyta had gradually abandoned their inhibitions. Meanwhile, Taffyta still hated Turbo's guts. Was it maybe...maybe _because_ he "wasn't like that anymore?"

"And then that whole virus thing happened a few months ago!" continued Taffyta, with an added shudder for dramatic effect. "That...fake King Candy came up to me and was grinning, calling me 'kiddo' and 'sweetie' and touching my face, right before he turned around and _threatened_ me! It was so creepy!"

"Yeah, that guy was a fat-headed creep," agreed Vanellope, somewhat absently, as she was still puzzling over the whole situation. "So...what does this have to do with your dream?"

Taffyta started. "Hmm?"

"Your dream. Y'know, the thing that you were supposed to be telling me about?"

"Oh, that!" Taffyta's cheeks went as pink as her hat. "It was just about King Candy being nice and kingly and...fatherly. It was ridiculous. He never even acted like that in real life."

_Huh, weird...that's what my dream was about, too._

Vanellope wasn't sure if she wanted to come out and say that or not, but the decision was quickly made for her when Turbo shouted in her direction, "Hey, glitter-graphics! Are we gonna set up the roster, or not?!"

"Okay, okay! Keep your hair on, pajama boy!" she hollered back, smirking. "See? It's funny 'cause you don't have any hair!"

Turbo wasn't all that close to her, but she saw him jab his tongue out at her nonetheless. "Hilarious."

She glitched to her feet and brushed off the rear of her skirt, feeling a bit more like her usual self again. "C'mon, Taffy-brains. Let's stop moping and start racing!"

Taffyta still didn't look like she was in much of a racing move, but she reached into her pocket for one of her lollipops, flicked the wrapper aside, and stuffed it into her mouth in order to signal that the conversation was over.

Vanellope flounced her way over to the head of the pack, ready to lead her people into the new day. On her way, though, she stopped to ask Turbo a question. "You didn't have any weird dreams last night, Bo...did you?"

He shook his head. "Nothing but the usual nightmares about King Malware. Why?"

"Oh...no reason."

"It wouldn't happen to be because _you_ were having weird dreams about King Candy, would it?"

She may have done a double take. "W-what? Oh, come on, Turbo! Just because it happened the other night doesn't mean it happens _all_ the time. It doesn't. Not for me! So there's nothing to worry about!"

She adorned her face with an everything-is-a-okay expression, which he squinted at suspiciously.

"Whatever you say, Vanellope. I was just asking because Rancis and Adorabeezle were just telling me that _they_ had weird dreams about King Candy last night. Isn't that weird?"

Vanellope swallowed.

"Yeah. Real weird," she answered softly.

They didn't touch on the subject again that day, but that didn't mean that she wasn't thinking about it throughout the races.

…

"_Happy Birthday, Princess Vanellope!"_

_Vanellope beamed as she strode into the throne room, now swathed with streamers and balloons and crepe paper in every conceivable crevice, where all of her friends were waiting...just as Papa had said they would be. They all carried presents of varying shapes and sizes. Her very best friend, Taffyta, had wrapped the gift she'd brought in pretty pink paper, with a shiny bow on top. Vanellope decided that she would open that one first._

_Later, when she woke up, she would think to herself that the Sugar Rush racers looked rather younger than normal. Not that nine years old was "old," per se, but the kids in the dream couldn't have been much more than six or were all recognizable, though, already dressed up in their theme candy gear._

_Her poofy dress bounced around her as she scampered from place to place, greeting everyone and thanking them for coming to her party, playfully bopping her closest friends on their heads with her scepter. Finally, she reached the alcove where the throne was located, and where King Candy stood waiting for her with Sour Bill at his side._

"_Papa!" Vanellope rushed forward, and her father was all too happy to take her into his arms._

"_Well, what do you think, sugarplum?" he asked, brushing a gentle finger across her nose. "Is it everything you wanted and more?"_

"_It's perfect!" gushed Vanellope. "Everyone's here! This is the best birthday party ever!"_

"_I'm so glad you like it! I worked very hard to make sure it was just right for you. I took care of the invitations, the decorations, and..." He winked at her slyly. "Even the cake."_

_She screeched with excitement. "Cake! Cake! When do we get to eat the cake?!"_

_One would think that, after living in a land made entirely of confections, cake would begin to lose its appeal after a while. But Vanellope had gotten the idea into her head that birthday cake was different than ordinary cake. It must have had a special, birthday-related ingredient that made it taste better than any other cake in the world._

_King Candy chuckled gaily. "It's on the way, my vanilla bean. It'll be here in just a few – ah, speak of the devil!"_

_She whirled around to find that, sure enough, six of the candy kitchen servants were balancing an enormous tiered cake, slathered in pink frosting and flowers, between them. Her eyes widened in delight. It was so huge – the only cake she'd ever seen that was bigger was part of the Royal Raceway. She couldn't wait to smear her pudgy little fingers around in that icing..._

"_Caaaaake!" shrieked Candlehead, and all of the children had soon clustered around a table that the servants had set up earlier for the occasion. They were in such a rush to get their sugar fix that poor Sour Bill was nearly trampled._

"_All right, all right! Settle down, hoo!" King Candy, a pro at controlling rowdy young racers, effortlessly made his way through the crowd to whisk Vanellope into his arms and place her on top of her chair. "You all know what we have to do before we eat our cake, don't you? We have to sing happy birthday to Princess Vanellope!"_

_He reached into his jacket (which had a handy infinite storage feature; anything that could fit inside was automatically added to his inventory) and rummaged around until he produced a match, which he used to swiftly light all of the candles on the birthday cake._

_Vanellope had never been happier. Even though this wasn't exactly a "birthday" – it was, to be more precise, the one-year anniversary of the day that a sugar-sparkle fairy had given her to her father – it was definitely the best day she'd ever had. Her party was perfect...and, for that matter, her life was perfect. She was a princess, she had tons of friends, she got to race and play every day, and she had a wonderful papa. What more could a little girl ask for?_

_Eventually, the other kids calmed down enough that they were able to start singing in unison:_

_"Happy Birthday to you,_

_Happy Birthday to you!_

_Happy Birthday, Princess Vanellope..._

_Happy Birthday to you!"_

_King Candy nudged her shoulder. "Make a wish and blow out the candles," he told her, smiling._

_Vanellope paused. What could she wish for? She had everything she could ever want..._

"_I wish that my papa and me could be together forever," she whispered, so quietly that no one could hear her._

_Then she leaned forward, pursing her lips, and saw the little candle flames flicker and go out one by one..._

...but she woke up before she got to taste the cake.

It was the middle of the night. Vanellope had done a reasonably good job of keeping up the facade of normality during the day, despite the fact that her head was practically bursting with questions. But now that she was lying awake in her darkened bedroom, she didn't feel like the competent leader who could run the game despite puzzling over a troubling mystery. She felt small and weak and vulnerable.

_I want my papa..._

But what did that even mean? Sure, she'd wanted parents during her fifteen years of being bullied and isolated; that was normal. However, ever since she'd gotten her real family, that desire had been extinguished. She didn't need conventional parents when she had Ralph and Felix and Calhoun, and now she even had Turbo, her sort-of brother!

And on top of that, King Candy had never been kind to her. Never. Not once. It made sense that someone like Taffyta would recreate a fatherly version of him in her head, but why was it happening to Vanellope?

After several minutes, the cold, miserable feeling in the pit of her stomach hadn't gone away. So she did the only thing she could think of to make her feel better: she slid her feet into her slippers, shuffled down the hallway, and crept into Ralph's bedroom.

Unlike Turbo, Ralph was an extremely heavy sleeper. His snoring could rattle the windows at its worst, and he didn't even twitch as Vanellope crawled up on the bed beside him. That was just fine with her. His presence alone was comforting enough.

She curled up beside him, a slight smile curling across her lips as she noticed that he was still wearing that cookie medal she'd made for him, so many months ago. He told her once that he never took it off (except to shower or swim; he didn't want it to melt, after all). Just the sight reminded her of everything they'd been through to get to this point, all of the good times, every instance where they'd persevered and pushed through.

She didn't need a fake, dream father. Her clumsy, smelly, stinkbrained guardian was just perfect for her. And eventually, she felt secure enough in that knowledge to drift off to sleep again.

Besides, she didn't even really like the color pink.


End file.
